


Graffiti On My Heart

by Purple_Turtle



Series: Little Slice of Heaven [2]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Daddy Peter, Gen, Infantilism, Little Neal, Little's are known, Mommy Elizabeth, Neal's art, Troublemaker Neal Caffrey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 01:37:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17715593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purple_Turtle/pseuds/Purple_Turtle
Summary: “Couldn’t you get a sitter?” Diana asked kindly.All three agents had their eyes on the Little now residing in Peter’s office. It was endearing watching him walk around with an air of innocence only a little could hold.“No. El tried almost 30. They were all either already booked, ill or refused to watch Neal.”Jones laughed.“Read; they all refused to watch Neal. I know an excuse when I hear one.”-X-Neal has an unexpected little day. Neither Peter or Elizabeth can stay home with him today, and they can't get a sitter either. It means Neal has to accompany Peter to work.What could possibly go wrong?





	Graffiti On My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Thank for all your kudos and kind words on my first one-shot!!  
> This was supposed to be bratty 9-year-old Neal, but I'm not completely sure it turned out that way!! Still, lots of trouble-making from our favourite CI!!
> 
> Also, I am from England. I do try my best to write this in an american tongue. Such as mOmmy instead of mUmmy. Couch instead of Sofa. Please bare with me through this, and if you see any mistakes please point them out. Thank you all!!
> 
> I'm going to go through and edit this one-shot in a little while!! But for now, enjoy!!<3 <3

The alarm was loud and unrelenting, jolting Neal awake. He grunted and quickly slammed his hand down on the evil invention, successfully shutting it off. With a content sigh at the silence that now enveloped him, he rolled onto his front and closed his eyes again.

He knew that Mommy or Daddy would come and wake him if, and when, he needed to be up. They always did when he was little.

Neal jerked at the thought and groaned, raising his hand to rub at his face. Today was supposed to be a ‘big’ day… not a ‘little’ one.

When Neal had first joined the Burke household, he’d been sceptical. With his continued, spontaneous drops affecting him, he knew it was only a matter of time before the Bureau decided he was too much hassle and sent him packing to a government funded institute for criminal Little’s, ‘for his own good’. He hadn’t wanted that, he hadn’t wanted to give up everything he had, let alone give up Peter. So, when it had come to it, his friend took him in and gave him a whole new world… him and Elizabeth had. And it was the best decision he’d ever made; now he didn’t want for anything else.

Peter and Elizabeth had loved him unconditionally since day one. They’d given him a family, a home, routine and boundaries. Everything that Neal Caffrey needed and thrived on. Things had understandably changed over time, once they had all settled together more. But some things remained constant, such as his set little days.

Every Tuesday, Thursday and every second weekend were set aside for Neal to be Little. There were exceptions, of course. It was never certain that Neal would feel little on these days, but there was also no guarantee that Neal would feel big on his big days either. So, the schedule had a lot of leeway in that respect; but Neal was never forced to be little, _or_ big.

Yesterday had been a Little day. He’d been around the age of 5 yesterday morning, but after lunch he’d come out the other side and had spent the afternoon with Elizabeth, planning a trip to the new art museum that was opening in a couple of months; they both wanted to go and see it. And because he’d been big when bedtime rolled around, he’d climbed into bed in his ‘big’ room.

Today, however, was a Wednesday… a scheduled big day. But he knew that he wasn’t feeling big today. Neal rolled onto his side and then sat up in bed. He pulled a face at the sight of his ‘big’ room; he hated seeing this room whenever he was little, no matter what age he happened to slip into.

He took a moment to think rationally.

Downstairs, he could hear both Peter and Elizabeth chatting and moving about. He knew that Elizabeth had an event to put together today, so wouldn’t be home. Peter was expected in the office today as well, to start their next case. That meant that Neal would be stuck at home with a sitter. And he hated sitters.

He momentarily thought about hiding his little side from his caregivers, but even if he made it through breakfast without them suspecting anything, work would be hell to get through – even though he was feeling on the older side of little today. That, and he _knew_ he wouldn’t make it through breakfast without them figuring it out anyway. He was just going to have to suck it up… and besides, maybe he could convince Peter and Elizabeth to forgo the sitter and invite Mozzie round to watch him; it seldom worked, but it was always worth a try.

When Neal finally made it downstairs, he stood in the doorway of the kitchen, watching Elizabeth and Peter interact. It was adorable, but the kiss they shared made him screw up his face – nobody liked watching their parents kiss, least of all him.

They hadn’t noticed him yet. Neal felt the nerves bubbling in his tummy and he tried to distract himself with the corner of his pyjama top. He hadn’t bothered to change; he figured if he was going to be staying home then he didn’t really need to get dressed. Maybe his sitter would be one that would let him play on the x-box all day rather than drag him to the park or something because they thought it would be beneficial for him.

Elizabeth finally broke away from the table, a huge smile on her face. She walked over to the fridge and noticed Neal as she passed.

“Good morning, Peanut,” She greeted, grabbing the orange juice and closing the fridge again. She noticed Neal’s pyjamas. She smirked playfully. “You planning to go to work like that today or something?”

“Mommy?” Neal muttered, wringing his fingers and looking at her through his eyelashes.

Elizabeth’s expression immediately softened as she realised that it was Little Neal who was stood in front of her.

“Oh, Peanut,” She shushed comfortingly, putting the bottle of orange juice on the side and sliding over to him. “You’re feeling little today, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” Neal nodded, with a small frown on his face. Elizabeth’s hands cupped his face and a soft pair of lips pressed to his forehead.

“That’s okay, baby,” She promised him with an honest smile. “C’mon; it’s breakfast time… I’ll get your Lucky Charms.”

Neal let himself be guided over to the table, where Peter was sat, thumbing through a case file. It was probably the case they were supposed to start today.

“Ah, Neal,” He barely looked up as he took a sip of coffee and read on. “I was wondering when you were going to get up. You should have a read of this before we head in…”

“ _Daddy_ ,” Elizabeth spoke, emphasising the word to get Peter’s attention. It worked. Peter’s head snapped up so fast it was a wonder the man didn’t creak his neck. “Neal doesn’t want to read that boring case file right now. He just wants his Lucky Charms and morning cartoons.”

Neal perked up at the sound of that. He _loved_ cartoons! He smiled wide at Elizabeth, who ruffled his hair and disappeared behind him to grab his trusty cereal.

“Morning Daddy,” Neal beamed at Peter. His nerves were completely soothed, and he felt a lot more comfortable and confident now that he was with his caregivers. They had always had the uncanny ability to take away all of his worries and concerns just by being there. He knew they would take care of him.

“Morning Cowboy,” Peter smiled back, closing up the casefile and focusing all of his attention on the little. “You having a little day today?”

Neal nodded seriously, running his bare feet up and down the soft rug.

“I’m sorry Daddy,” He quickly apologised. His heart almost dropped, wondering if Peter wanted him to be big today. “I know I’m not supposed to be…”

“Don’t you worry, Neal,” Peter shook his head, interrupting the boy and smiling kindly. “You can be little whenever you want to – even on your big days.”

“Here we are,” Elizabeth put the half empty cereal box on the table and placed her hand on Neal’s shoulder. “Daddy will make your cereal, okay? Mommy’s got to call the sitter.”

Neal pulled a face.

“I don’t want a sitter, Mama!”

“We can’t stay home with you today, Cowboy,” Peter spoke up, already pouring a serving of Lucky Charms into a clean bowl. He grabbed the jug of milk. “Unfortunately, both Mommy and Daddy have a lot of work to do today.”

Neal huffed, but accepted the cereal that peter placed in front of him. He grabbed a spoon as Elizabeth excused herself to make the call.

“I’m sorry we can’t stay home today, Neal,” Peter apologised, sensing his Little’s upset. He subtly observed Neal to try and work out what age he’d roughly regressed to today. It was clearly an older age, but it certainly wasn’t teenage years. If Peter had to guess he’d say older than 6, but younger than 10.

“But do I have to have a sitter, Daddy?” Neal complained, stuffing a huge spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “I’m old enough to look after myself!”

“Oh no!” Peter chuckled. “No, Neal. And please don’t eat with your mouthful. I don’t want bits of chewed up cereal all over my table.”

“Sorry Daddy,” Neal smirked. He waited for a moment, eyes darting over to the TV that he could easily see from his spot at the dining table. “So, can I watch cartoons?”

“Nope,” Peter denied, already in the process of standing up to refill his coffee mug. “You know there is no TV at the table Mr Caffrey.”

Neal said nothing as Peter walked away from the table. There, next to Peter’s file was the TV remote. Of course, the no TV at the table rule only applied to Neal apparently.

Glancing over his shoulder, Neal confirmed that Peter’s back was still turned. He dived forward to grab the remote. With haste, Neal switched the TV on and input the remembered number for the kids channel. He chuckled to himself at his success and put another spoonful of Lucky Charms in his mouth, his attention not completely engrossed in the telly.

Less than 30 seconds later, Peter was back. He snatched the remote up and switched the TV back off again.

“Hey!” Neal exclaimed, reaching for the remote that was still in Peter’s hands. “Give that back! I was watching that!”

“And I said no,” Was Peter’s answer. He walked over to the TV and put the remote on the stand, where little hands currently couldn’t touch it. “Now finish your breakfast please.”

“’S’not fair,” Neal grumbled under his breath. Peter pretended not to hear it as he sat back at the table, opposite his little.

Elizabeth chose that moment to come back. She had the landline in her hand, and a concerned look on her face.

“Peter. A word, please?”

Neal smiled innocently at the look Peter shot him before the man stood up and joined his wife in the kitchen.

“What is it, hun?”

“I can’t get a sitter.”

“What do you mean, you can’t get a sitter?”

“I mean, I can’t get a sitter!” Elizabeth hissed, taking a breath and starting again in a calmer tone. “All the ones I’ve called are either already booked, ill or won’t take on our little rascal because of all the trouble he caused the last time they watched him.”

“Did you call _all_ the sitters?”

“All 20 of them Peter,” Elizabeth whispered exasperatedly. “And 8 more after that! Apparently, news spreads fast in the sitter-world; one of them told me that I was crazy if I thought she was going to accept the job after the stories she’s heard.”

“Oh, come on; he’s not that bad,” Peter scoffed, feeling a need to stick up for their little. Elizabeth gave him a look. “Okay, he _is_ that bad… but not always! He’s usually really good for us!”

“When it suits him,” Elizabeth agreed, sympathising with what Peter was feeling. “But he knows where the boundaries lie with us – and he likes pushing them at the best of times… now imagine him with someone who hasn’t set him boundaries.”

“Yeah, good point,” Peter grumbled, knowing from experience what Neal was like without boundaries.

“That’s not the problem though,” Elizabeth hushed, retuning them to their current problem. They could talk about Neal later. “What are we going to do?”

Both Caregivers looked over Peter’s shoulder at Neal who appeared to be harmlessly sipping on a glass of orange juice and, thankfully, not up to his usual mischief.

Neither Peter or Elizabeth said anything for a moment, both thinking over their options, and both coming up pretty blank.

“One of us is going to have to take him to work,” Peter surmised cautiously, as if he knew the idea was a bad one from the start.

“Well I can’t,” Elizabeth decided, tone final. “The party I’m organising today is specifically no kids… and my client was _very_ strict in insuring that included no little’s.”

“Well I can’t take him to work,” Peter argued back. “Neal is bad enough at the Bureau on a big day; let alone a little one!”

“You could always call Mozzie.”

Peter and Elizabeth both jumped at the voice of their Little. Both Caregivers turned to look at Neal who was now stood beside them. He wore his usual charming smile, and anyone who didn’t know Little Neal would suspect him of being big, but the caregivers recognised the twinkle of a little in his eyes.

“Mozzie?” Elizabeth asked, suddenly suspicious.

“Yeah,” Neal beamed. “I wanna play with Mozzie today!”

“I don’t know Neal,” Peter shook his head.

“Please!” Neal begged, dragging the single word out and squishing his palms together in a mock prayer.

Peter remembered the last time that they called Mozzie to babysit. When Peter had come home that evening, the kitchen had been covered in flour, the dog decorated with stickers and glitter and 4-year-old Neal had been running a sugar high. It had _not_ been pretty. Both Elizabeth and Peter vouched only to call Mozzie for babysitting if they were desperate.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Peter decided, not outrightly saying no, but heavily implying it. Peter looked at Elizabeth, wanting her to back him up, but he could tell she was considering it. “No.”

“It might be the only choice we have,” She argued.

“I agree,” Neal butted in, earning two hard stares. He ducked his head slightly and backtracked back to the table and to his empty bowl.

“Okay fine,” Peter reluctantly relented. “But there will be strict rules!”

“Yes!” Neal cheered loudly, fist pumping the air before composing himself and pretending that he hadn’t just been listening.

“Alright. I call him,” Elizabeth decided, smirking at Neal’s behaviour.

-X-

For a Wednesday morning, the White Collar offices were no busier than usual. Most agents were arriving and settling in for the day, a small crowd gathered around the coffee machine gossiping.

Diana looked like she’d been at her desk for an hour or two now. She was furiously typing, her eyes never straying from her computer screen. However, when Peter slowed to a stop at her desk, she looked up at him with a huge smile on her face.

“Morning Boss!” She greeted cheerfully.

“Morning Diana. You look very busy this morning.”

“Yeah, just finishing writing up the case and getting a head start on the next one,” She explained. Before Peter could speak to her anymore, she glanced over his shoulder and smirked. “What’s this?”

Peter followed her gaze. He rolled his eyes at the scene before him.

“Neal’s having a Little day.”

“So, you brought him to work?” Diana chuckled. “Great idea Boss.”

“It was the only option I had, besides staying home with him,” He explained. He narrowed his eyes at Neal who was currently accepting a coffee mug from a clerk. He raised his voice. “Neal! Move it! My office!”

The Little’s head spun round at the sound of his name, and his Daddy’s tone. His eyes landed on Peter and he quickly ducked, fighting his way through the small crowd and almost running up the stairs.

“Little Neal?” Jones asked in playful disbelief, stepping up to Diana’s desk with his hands stuck in his pocket. “That wasn’t something I thought I’d see today when I woke up this morning.”

“Yeah, well, neither did I,” Peter sighed. “Makes my day a whole lot harder too.”

“Couldn’t you get a sitter?” Diana asked kindly.

All three agents had their eyes on the Little now residing in Peter’s office. It was endearing watching him walk around with an air of innocence only a little could hold.

“No. El tried almost 30. They were all either already booked, ill or refused to watch Neal.”

Jones laughed.

“Read; they all refused to watch Neal. I know an excuse when I hear one.”

Peter shook his head but couldn’t help the soft smirk.

“I think you might be out of sitters for good, Boss,” Diana backed Jones up.

“Well, I hope not,” Peter scoffed, still smiling. “We even tried Mozzie.”

“Oh, you must have been desperate,” Jones teased playfully, having heard all about the very few times Mozzie had babysat Neal.

“Yeah, but apparently he’s extremely busy today apparently. Something about a conspiracy he’s working on. I didn’t want to spend 20 minutes on the phone, so we didn’t ask.”

There was a loud crash from above them, causing every set of eyes to dart up to Peter’s office, where Neal was stood suddenly looking very guilty. Peter could practically hear Neal’s _“Oops.”_

“I’ve gotta go,” Peter sighed, nodding his thanks at the murmured words of support that followed behind him as he took long strides up to his office.

Neal noticed Peter’s approach through the glass wall and panicked. He looked around quickly, putting the coffee cup he still held on the desk and crouching to the ground to pick up the framed certificate that usually hung on Peter’s wall. The glass was shattered, scattering shards everywhere.

“I’m sorry Daddy!” Neal hurried, panicking to apologise and to get himself out of trouble when he heard Peter enter behind him. “I didn’t mean to! I was only looking!”

“Don’t touch it!” Peter cried, dropping his briefcase and coat and darting forward to stop the little from touching the sharp glass. “You’ll cut yourself Neal!”

“I’m sorry!” Neal exclaimed, letting Peter pull him away and push him into the seat opposite his desk.

Peter said nothing, turning over Neal’s hands to make sure the boy hadn’t already hurt himself. Luckily, he was fine.

“Just stay here while Daddy cleans up, okay?”

Neal nodded frantically, watching with big eyes as Peter stuck his head out the door and ordered a clerk who was walking past to grab him a dustpan and brush.

Within minutes, the FBI certificate was rescued and put on the desk to be reframed at a later date, and the broken frame and glass was all swept up and safely disposed of.

When Peter turned around, he was just in time to see Neal take a sip of coffee from the mug he’d brought up. Coffee when Neal was little, was a big no-no. The last thing Peter needed today was Neal on a caffeine high.

“Give me that,” Peter sighed, swiping the mug and placing it back on the desk with a firm thud.

“I brought the coffee for you Daddy,” Neal tried to save himself.

Peter sighed and sat down at his desk. Today was going to be a long day.

-X-

“86 bottles of beer on the wall, 86 bottles of beer. Take one down… pass it around…”

Peter was just about ready to pull his hair out. Neal had decided to set up shop at the round table in the corner of Peter’s office. He had his Lego’s spread out around him and was attempting to build what looked like the Burke residence.

But even though he was engrossed in his building, he still found the time and concentration to sing. There was no way Peter was letting him sing with way to 0 bottles of beer.

“Neal, please stop singing. Daddy is trying to concentrate.”

“You don’t like my singing, Daddy?” Neal asked innocently, looking up from the Legos.

Peter cringed at the question, tilting his face to the left to hide the face he pulled. He took a deep breath, smoothed his features out again and spun in his seat to face the boy.

“It’s not that I don’t like your singing, Cowboy, it’s just, that’s a _very_ long song and it’s _very_ distracting. Do you think maybe you could sing a different song for now?”

“Okay,” Neal agreed readily, looking back at his Legos.

Peter sighed in relief at the easy recovery he’d just made. If Neal thought he had asked him to stop singing because he didn’t like it, there would have been a meltdown – Peter knew from experience.

But before Peter could spin back around and refocus on work, Neal’s head shot up again. Peter stopped, knowing that his little was going to come out with something, but not knowing what. He had a very seriously look on his face, and that never boded well.

“I can’t think of another song, Daddy.”

Peter could have rolled his eyes. Still, an even littler Neal would have demanded Peter sing, so he guessed he was lucky.

“Not even one?”

“Nope. I just want to sing the beer song. Okay?”

And before Peter could reply, Neal started singing again.

“85 bottles of beer on the wall, 85 bottles of beer…”

Peter groaned and turned back to his desk, putting his head on the table. Then an idea struck. Before they’d all left this morning, Elizabeth had told Peter to phone if he needed anything. And right now, he needed El to work her magic on Neal and get him to stop singing that blasted song.

Without hesitating, Peter dived into his pocket to grab his cell. He dialled Elizabeth’s number, hoping that she wasn’t currently busy or holed up somewhere where she couldn’t answer.

“Well, you made it past 10. I’m impressed.”

“It sounds like your morning is going a bit better than mine,” Peter mumbled, looking over his shoulder at the Little.

“And yours sounds like it’s filled with 99 bottles of beer,” Elizabeth chuckled, clearly picking up on the song Neal was singing in the background.

Peter rubbed at his eyes with his free hand and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“I got 20 minutes,” Elizabeth decided. “But the little devil on and I’ll try and sort your problem out.”

Peter spun back round on his chair, a newfound spring in his step.

“Hey Neal, Mommy wants to speak with you.”

Neal looked so excited for the chance to speak with Elizabeth and he took the cell so carefully when Peter handed it over.

“Mama?” He called, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hi Peanut,” Elizabeth replied, the smile evident in her voice. “Are you having a good morning?”

“Yup. I’m playing Lego’s!”

“Lego’s? What’re you building?”

“Home.”

The one word was spoken with such love and trust that it made both Peter and Elizabeth beam and feel so warm inside; the fact that they could provide Neal with that was more than either of them could have asked for.

“That sounds amazing!” Elizabeth encouraged him, knowing that it probably was. Neal’s art was the one thing that didn’t regress when he did, unless he was really little. And Neal was a master-Lego builder. “You make sure Daddy takes a picture for me to see when you get home later, you hear?”

“Okay.”

“I could hear you singing your song as well. The beer one?”

“Yeah!” Neal cried, suddenly really enthusiastic. “I’m on 83 bottles of beer now!”

“Wow! That’s a lot! Is Daddy very busy right now, Peanut?”

Neal looked over his shoulder at the question. Neal wasn’t sure what Peter was doing, but he was scribbling something on a piece of official looking paper.

“I think so.”

“Right. And the beer song is a very long one.”

“But I like the beer song,” Neal defended, before Elizabeth could go any further.

“I know you do, baby,” Elizabeth soothed, trying to think of a way to convince Neal to abandon the song. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah,” Neal gushed clutching the phone to his ear, darting his eyes to Peter who was sure was still engrossed in his work. He liked secrets.

“Daddy really likes that song too, and he really wants to sing along with you,” Elizabeth cringed at the lie she was currently making up. She was glad Neal wasn’t here to see her face, and that Peter couldn’t hear her. “But he can’t at the moment because he’s got lots of work to do, which is why it’s distracting him. Do you think maybe you could sing it later, on the way home? That way then Daddy can join in too!”

There was silence on Neal’s end of the line for a moment. Elizabeth waited in anticipation to see whether she had been able to con the conman.

“Okay,” Neal decided. Elizabeth relaxed her shoulders.

“Great! Daddy will be so excited! Hey! I tell you what; why don’t you draw me a picture! I’d love a new one to stick on the fridge!”

Peter put his pen down, glad for the respite from the song. He’d taken the opportunity to finish writing up the forms currently on his desk demanding his attention. He watched Neal in time to see his face light up.

“I’ll draw you a hundred pictures, Mommy!” Neal promised.

Peter spoke to Elizabeth before they ended the call, where his wife admitted to him what she’d just told their Little. Peter could have cried. Still, he thanked El for getting him a few more hours of song-free time.

Neal was knelt at his toy box now, the one that Peter kept at work ever since Neal had spontaneously dropped more than once back along. The collection inside grew larger and larger as time went on, and now there was pretty much everything any aged little could want. Peter guessed the boy was looking for his art things; he usually did.

“Hey Cowboy, Daddy has to go speak to Diana a moment. Will you be okay here for a few minutes?”

“Yes Daddy,” Neal muttered, clearly distracted. In his hands were a pack of crayons and a tin of charcoal drawing pencils. The latter were generally only used when they boy regressed to teen years. Peter watched for a minute as Neal looked them both over before putting the charcoal back in the toy box and diving back in, probably searching for paper.

“Okay, well just shout if you need something, okay. Don’t leave this room.”

Peter waited to see if there was going to be a reaction to him leaving, like there sometimes was, at any age he regressed to, but today there wasn’t. He nodded his head and walked down the stairs to speak with his fellow agents for a few moments.

Neal sighed when he couldn’t find the paper he was looking for. He sat back on his heels and ran his hand through his hair. He looked around the office, knowing that Peter always had paper in here somewhere.

-X-

“Can we go home now?”

“No.”

“When.”

“Later.”

Neal screwed his face up and threw his head back dramatically. He had done his drawings, although there weren’t 100 of them. 10 was close though.

Now, he was bored. And his Daddy wasn’t really paying him any attention.

“Can we go to the park?”

“We don’t have time, Neal.”

“Tut. I’m hungry. Is it lunch time?”

“Nearly.”

“Well, can we at least go out for lunch?”

“Not today.”

Neal could feel his frustration growing at Peter’s short, dismissive responses. The man wasn’t even looking at him when he spoke. Neal kicked his foot and purposefully knocked the desk, smirking as Peter’s pen jolted and drew a black line all across the page.

It certainly got Neal what he wanted, Peter’s attention. The agent looked up at the Little, his eyes almost cold and his face stern.

“That corner, now.”

“What?!” Neal cried. “No! It was an accident!”

Peter threw his pen down and crossed his arms. Neal had the decency to at least look a bit sceptical. Over the last hour, Neal seemed to have grown up a few years. He had seemed to be about 5 or 6, and now he seemed more like 8 or 9.

“You got angry because I wasn’t giving you the answers that you wanted. So, you decided to kick my desk. It wasn’t an accident Neal.”

“It was!” Neal argued, clearly trying his luck.

Peter pushed himself to his feet, watching as Neal shrunk back.

“Corner.”

With a resigned huff, Neal trudged himself over to the back corner. He grumbled all the way there and fidgeted to begin with. It took Peter correcting him for him to finally stand still and fall quiet.

“For what it’s worth,” Peter explained, once the Little was exactly how he wanted him. “I was just about to tell you that we couldn’t go out for lunch because Mommy had made us a special lunch before we left. But I was willing to compromise and say we could sit outside to eat it. Not now though. You blew that chance Neal.”

“No!” Neal cried. “Please Daddy!”

“15 minutes Neal,” Peter decided, ripping up the ruined sheet and picking up a fresh one. He shook his head, knowing that in 40 minutes he’d be taking Neal outside for lunch; but the boy didn’t need to know that just yet. Let him stew in it for a little.

-X-

Peter knew that Neal’s misbehaviour had started through boredom, but that still didn’t give him the right, or the excuse, to do what he did. He also believed that the boys behaviour would pick up after some sunshine and food. But apparently that wasn’t going to be the case.

Neal had asked if he could go to the toilet, which Peter allowed of course. Except, the boy had taken longer than what was usual and when Peter went searching him out, he discovered that Neal had been trying to flood the men’s bathroom.

Peter was fuming. He nearly turned the boy round and marched him straight home. But he figured that was probably what he wanted. And his suspicions were proved correct when Neal told him that he did it because it was fun, and he wanted to watch the chaos unfold.

For that very line, the Little had received two swats to his ass and been parked in the corner.

Peter refused to let Neal out of his sight for even a second after that, which obviously frustrated Neal further.

So when Peter called the team into the boardroom to review their latest case, he sat Neal at the bottom of the table with a few sheets of paper and his crayons, in hopes that this would keep the little quiet and busy for at least 10 minutes.

As the agents piled in, Peter noticed a blue crayon lodged in Neal’s mouth. It clearly wasn’t there intentionally, as the little was looking down at his paper in concentration. Peter softly moved to correct him.

“Crayons can’t taste all that nice, Cowboy. How about you take it out your mouth, huh? He tried to be friendly and reassuring, and while his words did make Neal remove the crayon from his mouth, he received a glare for his troubles.

Peter said nothing, choosing to ignore it. Instead, he began handing out the files to the few agents who had joined him for this meeting.

“Afternoon everyone,” He greeted, waving his own, still closed file in greeting as the last few stragglers took their seats. “We’re dealing with a boiler room scam today. We’ve got an office full of junior Gordon Gekkos…”

Peter trailed off when he realised that no one was listening to him. They were all chuckling over their open files and glancing over each other’s shoulders to look at their neighbour’s.

“What?” Peter asked, a small, unsure smile tugging at his lips. “What is it?”

Peter looked over at Diana and Jones who both just smiled wide. Diana folded her file back and showed Peter what was inside.

Peter’s smile quickly vanished. With such speed it was a wonder that he didn’t get a papercut, Peter flipped open his own file and sure enough there was an original Neal Caffrey masterpiece drawn in crayon, all over the important paperwork.

He closed his eyes and took a breath through his nose to compose himself.

“Neal.”

“Hmm?” The boy looked up, clearly in his own bubble and not paying attention to the boring meeting going on around him. Stuck between his teeth was another crayon; a red one this time.

“Crayon; out your mouth, now,” Peter ordered, pointing a finger to the table.

Neal sensed that he was in some big trouble but couldn’t think what he’d done to warrant such a look.

“What did you do, Neal?” Peter asked, sliding his open file down the table towards his Little. It only reached half way, but Neal was able to see what Peter was talking about.

“I made some drawings,” Neal murmured. “For Mommy! She said!”

“She said you could draw on important federal paperwork?” Peter asked, knowing that was exactly the opposite to what Elizabeth would have said.

“Well, no,” Neal agreed readily enough, the ‘but’ lingering on his tongue. “I tried to find some paper. But I couldn’t.”

“So, you drew all over my important files instead; every single one of them?”

Neal just shrugged, trying not to look fazed at the scolding his was getting in front of the other agents.

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t wait for the clock to strike 6 and he could leave. Elizabeth could deal with Neal this evening; he was done! But Peter knew that once the boy was tucked up in bed, Elizabeth would remind him of the good times and just _why_ he loved Neal.

He also knew of someone who was going to be writing up new copies for all these files when he was feeling big again. With that little punishment in mind, Peter decided to let this misendeavor go… for now.

“Sorry about the paperwork everyone,” Peter apologised, wanting to get this meeting over. “I’m afraid, for now, we’re going to have to work around drawings of me, my wife and my dog.”

“And me!” Neal perked up loudly from the bottom of the table. “There’s one of me too!”

And sure enough, Agent Simmons turned her file around to show a perfect self portrait of Mr Neal Caffrey.

Peter sighed; this was going to be a long meeting.

-X-

“Did you have a good day with Daddy today?”

“Yeah,” Neal yawned, climbing underneath the covers. “I was trouble though.”

“I heard,” Elizabeth chuckled, bringing the cover up over the sleepy little. She sat on the edge of the bed, a fond look glazed over her face as she watched Neal grab his favourite sleepy-time blanket.

“I didn’t mean to break the picture,” Neal exclaimed, trying to prove his innocence to Elizabeth. “Or make Daddy go wrong on his form. The restroom didn’t really flood all that bad. And I just wanted some paper to draw on – I didn’t know it was ‘portant.”

Elizabeth smiled at the small lisp. Her boy was way too tired. It was time to sleep.

“It’s all okay,” Elizabeth hushed, letting her fingers dance through Neal’s hair. The boy preened under her touch and let his eyes fall shut for a fraction of a second too long. “Daddy sorted it all out, didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Neal yawned again, his eyelids fluttering to try and stay awake.

“Come now. It’s time to sleep,” Elizabeth whispered. She stood and tucked the cover in around Neal’s shoulders, and leant down to press a soft kiss to the boy’s forehead. “Good night Peanut.”

“Night Mama.”

By the time Elizabeth was across the room and switching off the main light, Neal was asleep.

Peter was sat at the dining table when Elizabeth came back downstairs.

“Out like a light,” She celebrated. “Maybe you ought to take him to work more often when he’s little.”

“Oh, no! Next time you get to take him to work,” Peter spoke lightly, his voice distant. Elizabeth could tell instantly that he was distracted. She looked over at him from where she was picking up the dropped toys by the couch and noticed a piece of card in his hand.

“What is it?”

“I brought my certificate home to reframe it,” Peter explained, showing her the very familiar document. “After Neal broke the frame this morning, I put it on my desk. I didn’t notice until just now…”

“Notice what?” Elizabeth asked, curiously moving forward.

“Neal and his crayons got a hold of it,” Peter hushed. Elizabeth’s eyes drew wide, in absolute horror; and then she did a double take. Peter didn’t look mad at all, instead he looked… happy.

“Peter, what?”

Peter handed the certificate over, with a soft order for his wife to turn it over. Elizabeth’s mouth fell open and her eyes started to shine with tears. She could see why Peter wasn’t angry now.

On the back of the certificate, expertly drawn in reds, blues, yellows and greens was a family portrait. Easily distinguishable, thanks to Neal’s skills was Peter, Elizabeth and Satchmo. In the middle, holding onto Peter’s and Elizabeth’s hands was Neal. They all had huge smiles on their faces. And at the bottom, a single line read;

_‘To Mommy and Daddy. Thank you for being my family. I love you. From Neal.’_

“Tell me how I’m supposed to be mad at that?!” Peter spoke up, voice soft and fond. “Neal… he’s a pain in my ass – but he’s so worth it El.”

Elizabeth gently placed the graffitied certificate on the table and stepped closer to her husband. She wound her arms around his shoulders and smiled at him.

“That, Mr Burke is an understatement.”

“Which part?” Peter laughed. “The pain-in-the-ass bit, or the worth-it bit?”

Elizabeth chuckled, cupped Peter’s cheek and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Both.”

**Author's Note:**

> If there's anything anyone wants to see let me know!!


End file.
